quiet, I love that thought
day before the hurricane
a much better line than
waiting for the other shoe
I write this poem in winter
cool, quiet, Florida winter
in a few more dry months
the fire season will come
I cannot warn the children
there is nothing to warn
I smell the smoke even now
age senses ultimate defeat
noise is a child's addiction
youth is a hectic neurosis
need filled with hungry pain
searching for serene spring
the spring, the seasons pass
generations in a soft breeze
mindless of sky fire, storm
the Earth trembling in fear
there is nothing to warn
bawdy, fearless youth
gain wisdom through loss
grow to quieter places
why is silence such a fear
it is not the peace we fear
it is the mute destruction
after the storm has passed
spring comes and old men
gaze out their windows
where the flowers bloom
and children run and laugh
I will only sit and watch
young lovers passing by
the park is alive with color
no thought yet of a storm
there is nothing to warn
youth cannot learn from age
laughing, optimistic, hopeful
out to conquer our failure
life will always move along
whatever rubble remains
tomorrow dreamers will use
as a foundation for beginning
no one sees my hiding place
waiting here for quiet serenity
coming like a cosmic firestorm
of utter destruction and rest
if I am spotted in my window
a quiet old man they'll say
no one sees within my mind
the wind, the earth opening
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wiseman's conclusions in a poem.Lovely.